A Leader Falls
by Brooke Lyn
Summary: He would never leave the streets, he was going to to be stuck here forever. Just another kid who died on the streets. But he died a hero. Standalone.


**A Leader Falls  
**

Hurt and anger pierced through me. A scab, how could he do this to me, to us? He had finally showed me, and proved to me that they really wanted this. And then he went and turned in to everything that we were fighting. I could kill him. "I'll murdah ya!" I yelled out and tried to push through the bulls. I wanted to ring that skinny little neck of his. I wanted to hurt him for hurting us. But there was nothing I could do, nothing I could do but head back to Brooklyn.

Denton told us to meet him at Tibby's. I knew something else was wrong. So I left. I just left Jack's newsies alone without a leader. I left them with their own hurt, and came back to my docks, where I had all of the control, the only place where I could think.

My cool gaze drifted across my own newsies. Most of their faces expressionless, just like mine. Cool and uncaring like we were trained to be, forced this way at a young age to survive. A few of the younger boys showed hurt and confusion on their faces. There was nothing I could tell them. Not without betraying my own feelings of hurt, anger and abandonment. I trusted my best friend, someone who I had known long before either of us became leaders. He knew how I felt about betrayal. He knew my parents had done it to me. I never wanted to see him again, for if I did I would kill him.

So I sent my newsies away. Sent them away to leave me alone to think. That's what I did, I sat perched on my crates that were stacked on the dock and stared. Not at anything in particular, but at everything. That is where I remained all day, and through the night.

As the sun began to rise, footsteps pounded up the dock, It was one of my birds. Before I could say anything he shoved a piece of paper into my hands. "Read dis." he told me. And as I read a smirk crept onto my face. Jacky-boy came back.

I took my newsies back to 'Hattan Jacky-boy needed us there. With all of us bonded back together again we beat Pulitzer. And once again I thought Jack was going to leave us. He left on that carriage with Roosevelt, and I thought my friend was never coming back. But I tried to tell myself didn't hate him so much this time.

Then again, maybe I did. He was leaving to fulfill his lifetime dream, he was going to Santa Fe. And I was jealous. Me Spot Conlon, the most famous and respected newsie in all of New York, jealous because something worked out for my friend. But yet I was happy for him. It is every newsies dream to get off the street, and into a place that is so much better. A place that you don't have to steal to eat, or worry about if you were going to sell enough just to have enough money to turn around and sell again tomorrow. And if anyone deserved to get out of the city, I knew Jack was worthy of it.

I was also afraid. Yes me Spot Conlon afraid. Afraid that I would never be able to leave this city. To be free, not tied to anyone, not having anyone look to me for advice. To be my own person. I didn't want to die on the streets. I wanted to make more of myself.

But he came back. Once again he returned to us, his family. Later that night he told me that he couldn't leave. He told me that he wouldn't abandon me; he knew that we couldn't yet break our ties from the past. And I knew what he meant. He couldn't leave me to deal with everything on my own. And he couldn't leave and be by himself, because only we knew each other's true story. All we had growing up was each other so the bond we had formed was too strong to sever just yet.

But fate wouldn't leave us be. She kept laughing in our faces. She would lift us up only to turn around and slap us in the face again. It was in the form of scum. Pulitzer wouldn't settle for the low lives, the useless kids on the street beating him, so he sent someone out to kill the problem from the source. He wanted to rid himself of what kept the strike going.

It was only a few days after the strike had ended. Jack and I were sitting on the rooftop of an empty building. We were just talking looking at the stars, and dreaming. But I felt uneasy. Something big was going to happen. I knew I was never wrong about my feelings. That was one reason why I was one of the best. But I sure hoped I would have been wrong.

A stone skipped across the roof and both Jack and I turned to see a group of about ten thugs standing there glaring at us with hatred. They had sticks, chains, clubs, and other weapons that could do a sizeable amount of damage. I had my cane, and sling shot. Jack just had his rope. Jack and I exchanged glances. The message we sent each other with our look was, be careful, and if anything happens...take care.

So we fought. The two of us against an army, and we were winning. That's when I saw it. The light from the moon glittered off of its blade, and evil glimmered in the eye of the one who held it. The guy ran at Jack, trying to plunge the knife into him. So I did what I thought necessary. I shoved Jack out of the way and took it for him.

As it sliced through my flesh the overwhelming sense of insurmountable pain washed over me. The thugs scattered off into the night not knowing what to do. They were supposed to kill Jack, not the more famous then Pulitzer himself Brooklyn leader. I lay on the ground my hand over my side, and still the blood poured through my fingers pooling around me on the ground. Jack knelt beside me, tears in his eyes. We both knew I was dying. "Live." I forced out, my breaths becoming harder, shorter. "Live for all of us who didn't have a chance." With one last look into my best friend's tear filled eyes, as his promise escaped his lips, I felt the life drain out of me.

This is where I pick up the story. I never want to remember that feeling. I had to stand on the roof of a building and watch my best friend die. He was killed, so he could save my life. But I had to do something for him. I promised. He wanted me to live. To get out of this place and make something out of myself. He always wanted that, and now... he never will be able to live. And he did it for me, so I could carry out my own dreams.

I scooped him up gently into my arms. Rain began pouring all around me and it mixed with the tears that streamed down my face. I carried him to his home, back to Brooklyn, his home. The only place he will ever know. He would never leave the streets now; he was going to be stuck here forever. A memory of just another kid who died on the streets. But he died a hero. He gave up his life and dreams so I could live mine.

The next day I found myself standing at the train station. I had a promise to keep. Oh, I knew what leaving would do to the newsies. They had lost two leaders, and so much more in just a short span of time. But my promise to my friend was more important right now. I knew I would be back. Not to stay, no never to stay again. But to visit my friend, who now lie in a cemetery next to his bridge, to show him that I made something out of myself. To show him that I lived for the both of us.

Disclaimer: not mine, Disney's. I had posted this a while back but I made a few revisions.


End file.
